The originals: The Rise
by HaloRose
Summary: Arriving in New Orleans in 1713, Original vampire siblings Klaus, Elijah and Rebekah Mikaelson believe they've escaped their dangerous past. But the city is lawless, a haven for witches and werewolves unwilling to share territory. The siblings are at their mercy…especially after Klaus meets the beautiful and mysterious Vivianne.


Prologue

Vivianne Lescheres was not afraid of the dark. Instead, the night felt like a warm cloak around her shoulders. The nearly-full moon bathed the bayou in black and gray, hiding and shifting its truths, but Vivianne's feet were sure and her heartbeat steady, even for a girl of ten. In the night she was free.

Vivianne, born of both a witch and a werewolf, had both clans as her protectors, her family. No danger could come to her, even from New Orleans' roughest residents. Yet as she got closer to the open water, all she could smell was night couldn't keep secrets from her, and she watched as the ghost ship crept along the edge of the swamp. She set one boot down in front of the other, wading closer tothe open water of the Mississippi River.

The ship looked small but sturdy enough for an ocean crossing, if not big enough to journey in any comfort.

But even Vivianne's sharp eyes couldn't spot a single soulon board. It just slid through the water, timbers creaking slightly with the gentle roll of the midnight current. She reached the edge of the bayou and heard a shout go up from one of the watchmen. They'd finally seen the ghostly vessel. Slipping behind a stand of cattails, Vivianne

felt a powerful impulse to set the ship on fire and let the water sweep it back down to the ocean. Whatever it was and whatever it carried, she didn't want it in her town.The ship stalled at the banks, inviting the watchmen to come to it. They wasted no time, clambering up the ladder built into the side of the ghost ship's hull. The moonlight glinted off the pale skin and hair of a man moving with inhuman speed across the deck as the guards went below. Vivianne gasped as the creature pulled a man up into the rigging and bit into his neck. Screamsbegan to rise from the deck. The warm night air turned clammy and clung to Vivianne's skin, making her shiver. The coppery smell of blood drifted across the river to her,and it was enough: she ran.

The darkness closed in on her, roots and hillocks reaching up to catch at her feet as she flew across the swamp. Something new had come to New Orleans, and the nightwould never be safe again.

Chapter 1

1722

"Crashing a party" had a beautifully destructive ring to it, but Klaus found the reality a disappointment. It had been all too easy to get in; Elijah's constant reminders that violence was prohibited turned out to be entirely unnecessary. And all that awaited them inside the villa was an ordinary party.Witches and werewolves drank and danced (with their ownkind, casting occasional disdainful looks at members of theother clan), the ballroom was stuffy, and the human serversmoved numbly through the crowd, controlled by some sortof spell that made them just as dull as everything else. Klaus couldn't figure out why his brother had been so eager to attend this event, but Elijah's reasoning was often unsound.

A doe-eyed young woman handed him a glass of champagne, and Klaus tasted it gamely. It was probably ofvery high quality, but it made no real impression on was, after all, hardly the best judge of beverages served in polite company. "Wait," he called, and the young woman turned obediently, a tray of glasses still balanced on one hand. Klaus stepped closer to her, taking in the honey glint of her hair and the gentle throb of the pulse in her throat. "I need some air," he improvised. "Can you show me to the garden?"The girl hesitated for a moment, her lips parted as if she

knew she was supposed to refuse, yet couldn't. She turned

and he followed her to the edges of the glittering ballroom.

He caught her before the door had fully closed behind them, his eyes adjusting immediately to the darkness of the garden. His right hand curled around her mouth, mufflingany sound that might escape, while his left hand brushed her hair away from the skin of her throat. He felt his fangs extend and sharpen as he stared at her smooth neck. His fangs reached for her pulse, tore into her throat, and locked it in place while her hot blood flowed into his mouth.His mind had already begun to wander by the time her heartbeat grew faint. His eyes roved the moonlit garden, looking for hiding places. The minute the serving girl wasdead, he carried her to an ivy-covered wall and concealedher among the clinging vines. He didn't bother to inspect his work too carefully; he could hardly bring himself tolook at it. Leaving the boring party for a boring kill had unexpectedly made him feel even more out of sorts.

He slipped back through the carved double doors, struck for a moment by the light and music inside. His return went almost entirely unnoticed, but not quite. The glow of a dozen chandeliers glinted off a pile of perfect blond curls,and below them a pair of serious brown eyes was fixed onhis face. Rebekah hadn't happened to just notice him, he was sure; she must have been watching him. Spying for Elijah, and catering to his tiresome obsession with "fitting in."

Making sure the wayward half-brother didn't do anything to endanger their brilliant plans. Together, the three Original vampires could have taken ownership of this fledgling city in a heartbeat, making it a fortress against the enemy that hunted them. Instead,they had spent nine long years cowering in dark corners, eating sparingly and ingratiating themselves with those who should have been their army. Klaus had agreed to it all for the time being, but he couldn't be expected to forego all entertainment while enduring Elijah's schemes. He turned away from his sister in disgust, only to see that he was being watched by someone else. The girl staring

his way was one of the witches, he thought, although he was almost sure he had noticed her dancing with a lanky werewolf earlier. A lovely young witch who wasn't afraid to stray from her own kind?

That might be enjoyable, and even redeem this dreadful party. With her raven hair, porcelain skin, and intensely black eyes she could almost have been

a vampire, but Klaus knew that the spells which filled herpretty head were nothing compared to his power.

Klaus imagined splitting the white skin of her throat; hecould hear her begging him to. He could be the last man to soak up the light that seemed to radiate from her and

put it out forever. He watched the young witch move through the room,

pausing to speak here, and dance there. Now and then her shining black eyes found his again before darting away.

Klaus moved closer, stalking her through the ball gowns

and tuxedoes like a tiger slipping through tall grass. The music changed, and the dancers obediently separated into groups of eight, one couple at each corner. Klaus ended up one group over from his new prey—was it his imagination, or had she begun to move away as she saw him move closer?—but that was easily remedied. The dancers stepped and turned to the music, and Klaus let them carryhim and the girl toward each other. He watched until shewas just behind him, and then he spun.

"May I cut in?" he asked flatly, not waiting for an answer as he pulled her into his arms. Her partner stammered something and then backed away. Klaus didn't bother to watch him go. The girl's red lips quirked up in a rueful smile. "Poor Gerald," she sighed, her eyes glittering in the candlelight."I don't think he saw you coming."

"I think you did, Mademoiselle," Klaus countered, spinning her away from his body and then back in, closer this time.

"Vivianne," she replied, holding up her gloved fingers

expectantly. He turned her hand over to kiss the underside of her wrist, letting his lips linger on her skin a bit longerthan the usual. She didn't blush the way most girls her agewould have; instead she raised a skeptical eyebrow."Niklaus Mikaelson," he returned. "It's an honor."

"I'm sure," Vivianne murmured. She glanced away, distracted. Then she looked back up at him and smiled, and it was as if the sun had come out: dazzling, powerful,and dangerous. "Who dragged you to this tedious affair,anyway? Or did you just wander in and lose sight of the exit?" she asked.

From across the room, Klaus noticed Elijah lurking at the outer edges of the ballroom. His brother's brown eyes were searching, boring into his. Elijah jerked his head, trying to catch Klaus's attention without drawing anyone else's. Klaus stared at him curiously, intrigued by the vehemence of hissilent protest. "My siblings assured me this party would be the social event of the season," he answered airily. "I wasn't convinced, but it certainly has improved dramatically in the last few minutes."

Vivianne's eyebrow ticked up again; he couldn't quite tellif she was flattered or just amused. "I wouldn't have thought

you were the sort of man who enjoyed pattern dancing."

"Neither would I." The music signaled a change of

partners, but Klaus glared at the young man who held hishand out to Vivianne. "I may still not quite have the hang of it," he admitted. "But you dance beautifully. I wasn't

aware this city could turn out such polished young women;

have you travelled?"

Her onyx eyes glittered with mischief. "I think you want me to know that you have," she interpreted dryly. "You must have seen extraordinary things."

"I have." Many that would have made her dark hair stand on end, but they could save that topic for another, more intimate time. "But you didn't answer, Mademoiselle Vivianne." In fact, he noticed, she hadn't even given him her last name.

She snuggled closer against his chest than the dance strictly required. "How terribly upsetting for you." Sarcasm dripped from her voice like honey mingled with blood. "I'm sure you're accustomed to getting your own way." A short, surprised laugh burst from his throat. "Oh, mysterious Vivianne, I think I would rather you deny methan have my way with anyone else tonight." "You shouldn't insult the guest list," she chided playfully.

"For all you know, I invited all of these people. They maybe five hundred of my closest friends." "Half of them may be, at any rate." The division between the two clans was quite evident; there were no werewolves on their side of the ballroom. "Peace is a wonderful thing," Vivianne replied, so blandlythat he suspected she was thinking something quite different. The long war between the witches and werewolves of New Orleans had finally drawn to a close, and Klaus seemed alone in not choosing to celebrate. Was it possible that this witch had doubts of her own about the truce? Elijah was adamant that it must go forward with no interference from the vampires, but if some of the witches themselves were dissatisfied . . . this charming young woman could be muchmore than just a meal

Klaus realized that he was smiling genuinely for the first time that night. Maybe he ought to let the pretty witch live; New Orleans seemed less dreary for having her in it."I will have to stay close to you and borrow some of your popularity," he teased. "I don't think I have many friends here tonight."

"How lucky that I'm here to protect you from all these horrible people." She rolled her eyes dismissively, looking for a brief moment like the girl she was. He smirked."Protecting the innocent is whatI do",

"Mademoiselle. I'm surprised my reputation hasn't preceded me"

The song ended, and the dancers stopped with it. Vivianne stretched onto her tiptoes, bringing her face soclose to his that Klaus could have bitten her lip. "Oh, but it has," she whispered, her wicked smile blocking out everything else in the decadent ballroom. She reached up to touch him, caressing the corner of his mouth with one long finger. He turned to kiss it, to devour it, but she pulled back out of his arms, and he saw that her fingertip had come away red. A forgotten bit of the serving girl's blood; it must have been there all along.Vivianne was halfway across the ballroom by the time he thought to follow her, and before he could move, celebratory horns gave a flourish. Frustrated, Klaus waited, impatient but confident there would be a better, more private opportunity to catch her soon.

"Ladies, gentlemen, distinguished guests," a voice cried,

silencing the chatter around them. "It is my great pleasure

to welcome you to this happiest of occasions. I have the

honor to present to you, for the first time as a betrothed

couple, Armand Navarro and Vivianne Lescheres."

Vivianne reached the side of the werewolf Klaus had seenher with earlier, sliding her arm through his as if they hadnever been apart. Her smile was absolutely brilliant as she

raised one white arm and waved to the crowd.

The ballroom exploded in a frenzy of applause and

cheering, but Klaus was utterly still. Suddenly, the partymade perfect sense. They weren't just celebrating the end

of the war; they were sealing it with blood. The Navarros

were the premier werewolf family in New Orleans, so aNavarro was marrying a witch—and for them to agree,

Vivianne must be an extraordinary witch.

Klaus narrowed his eyes. Extraordinary, indeed. She must

be the fabled daughter of a witch and werewolf. Whispers

of her existence had reached his ears from time to time, buthe'd always dismissed them as foolish fancy. Still, it was the

only explanation that fit. Vivianne's unusual heritage wouldbe the key to uniting the clans. When Elijah had mentioneda party, he had certainly failed to include the specifics—and

the only reason Klaus could fathom was that his brother

didn't trust him to stay out of the fray.

But someone

should

intervene. Klaus felt safest when hisrivals hated each other at least as much as they hated him.

Besides, Vivianne was far too good to waste on a

werewolf.

"She's not for you, Niklaus," Rebekah snapped, appearing

beside his elbow. "This alliance has been a generation in themaking. Interfering with it is absolutely out of the question,

so just forget she exists."

Klaus watched Vivianne dance with her fiancé. Her lithe

body moved gracefully across the floor, her skirt following amoment later like a white echo. He didn't answer Rebekah;

there was no need. They both knew her warning had come

too late.

Chapter 2

The ballroom around Elijah hummed and spun with happychatter and lively dancing, but underneath it all he couldn't

stop looking for trouble. The first sign that would allow

him to be faster, smarter, and more prepared than everyone

else. From the relative peace of the darkened corner, he

watched the wallflowers, the whisperers, the outsiders. But

of course, as he turned his gaze to the dance floor beforehim, he realized he was looking in the wrong place. The

trouble was right in the thick of the party, dancing with the

bride-to-be. His blond head was bent close to her mouth,

listening, smiling, murmuring. Why did he ever bother

looking anywhere but at Klaus?

Had it been a mistake to keep his impetuous younger

brother in the dark about the witches' and werewolves' peace

terms? Like all worthy feuds, this one was ending with a

wedding between the two families, and Elijah had promised

that the vampires wouldn't disrupt their arrangement. He'd

thought the key would be diverting Klaus's attention from

Vivianne and her betrothal, as his brother seemed to have an

unnatural penchant for wanting what wasn't his. Vivianne

Lescheres, the rare child of both a witch and a werewolf, was

a woman with a destiny. The fragile new peace of the city'ssupernatural denizens depended entirely on her impending marriage, and the Mikaelson siblings depended on that

peace. Rebekah had argued passionately and convincinglythat telling Klaus a beautiful young woman was off-limits

to him would only guarantee that he would seduce her, but

apparently

 _not_

telling him hadn't helped a bit.

"Do you see that?" Rebekah sighed, rounding a column

to join her brother in the dark. "Trust him to find a way

to get in the middle of everything, without even knowingwhat it is."

"We have to tell him now," Elijah growled, sure nowof their mistake. "He'll be even worse if he finds out on

his own."

"Has he ever been better, in order to become worse?"

Apparently content with her parting shot, Rebekah returnedto the dancing, her gown sweeping across the polished floor.

She frequently made it clear that she believed there

wasn't

away to handle Klaus, but Elijah refused to stop trying. The

three of them had managed to stay together and survive

this long. There was no future for them without each tried to signal to Klaus, but only managed to catch his

attention for a short second before Klaus returned his eyes

to the half-witch. Elijah wondered what the girl was sayingto him; somehow he doubted that they were discussing her

fiancé.He could only watch as the trumpets sang and Vivianne

left his brother's side to join her future husband's. Fromthe reckless flush on her cheeks, Elijah felt sure that she had been toying with Klaus. Considering that Klaus had

probably intended to eat her, it was hard for Elijah to holda grudge, but it looked like Klaus wasn't the only one whowould require some careful watching."I understand the witches struck a deal to let you stay inNew Orleans," a voice rumbled in his ear. "If it had been

up to me, I would have thrown you right back into the

Mississippi." Solomon Navarro was the sort of man who

wore his true nature on his sleeve. Huge, burly, and sporting

a wicked scar down the right side of his face, he looked

more like a wolf masquerading as a human than the other

way around. Not even his impeccable pinstriped suit could

give the illusion of civilization winning out over savagery.

"Congratulations on your son's engagement," Elijah

replied politely, struggling with all of his will not to show

his fangs to the massive, glowering man. "You must be

very proud."

Elijah had felt that it was more important to be seen there,

paying their respects to the powerful local clans, than toget hung up on the fact that they'd snuck in. Perhaps he

had underestimated the tension of such a happy occasion.

"She thinks and acts like a witch," Sol growled, nodding

contemptuously at Vivianne, "but as a symbol, her parentage

will be useful. Unless that

thing

you brought in with you

gets his teeth in her, obviously. Have you ever consideredcuring your brother of his wretched immortality?"

"Niklaus will not be a problem," Elijah assured the giant man, with a quick glance at his brother. Klaus was well out

of earshot, but he still always seemed to know when his

siblings weren't entirely on his side. Klaus's belief that he

didn't belong in their family was the poison that divided and

endangered the Originals. Yet, despite his best intentions,Elijah could never quite prove his brother wrong.

Still, Sol's anger was somewhat justified: Klaus had begun

his time in New Orleans hunting werewolves. The witches

had turned a blind eye, requiring only that the Mikaelsons

make no new vampires. But with the wedding, the balance

of the supernatural landscape had shifted. A massacre—

even a small one, even one that had been over for years—

could be held against them now by both the witches and

the werewolves. In retrospect, the Mikaelsons should haveskipped the party after all. . . .

"He"s been a problem since the three of you washed upon shore," Sol spat, and Elijah could hear that he was still

nursing his grudge. "I've been informed that there's a dead

body in the east garden. One of the humans."

 _Klaus_

."I don't know what you're angry about, then," Elijah said

with a tight shrug. He found his own patience for diplomacy

wearing dangerously thin. "If he's busy with humans, he's

steering clear of your kind. Still, it wouldn't hurt to remind

your pack to stay inside after dark. It's just common sense

for anyone who can't take on a single vampire alone."

The blow caught Elijah entirely off-guard, crunching into

his jawbone and spinning him all the way around before he

could even react. He heard a snarl, and a pair of wild eyes

glowed yellow somewhere in the shadows. Elijah felt his

teeth grow sharp and deadly, but then the growls multiplied,

and he froze."That's the thing about being a pack," Sol said jovially,

his broad face creasing into a vicious smile. "We're never

really alone."

Elijah guessed there were at least five werewolves that

had joined them.

"Your brother hasn't paid for any of the blood he's

spilled," a voice beside him sneered. It sounded familiar— Sol's younger son, perhaps. "And yet you just walk in here

thinking all will be forgiven?" The group echoed him with

dark murmurs of agreement.

Elijah bared his fangs, and smirked as the werewolf

took an uncertain step back. His name was Louis, Elijah

remembered, and unlike his slim brother, he had inherited

both their father's height

 _and_

his heavy frame.

This was why the Mikaelsons needed to stay together,

Elijah thought angrily. For

his

"pack," six werewolves

would be nothing. Caught on his own, he would have to

improvise. "Sol," he began, as strong hands grabbed the

collar of his white shirt."Take him outside," Sol ordered quietly, and Elijah wasnearly pulled off his feet.

He had just enough balance to push off the floor and flip behind the circle of werewolves. He lashed out with

his fists, not caring who he hit as long as he made contact.

A swarthy werewolf with startling green eyes got close

enough to jab Elijah in the ribs, and Elijah repaid him by

breaking his arm. It cracked with a sickening splintering

sound. Louis pushed the injured werewolf out of his way

in a bid to reach Elijah. Louis was substantially bigger than

the rest of the werewolves, and only one of Sol's lackeys

was effectively out of the fight.

Another blow caught Elijah in the kidney: he was

surrounded again. He turned faster than a human eye could

see to meet the new attacker, realizing too late that he had

turned his back on the most formidable of his enemies.

Before Elijah could think of a way to defend himself against

Louis, he heard the big werewolf yelp in pain and fall to

the floor.

Klaus stood behind him, his dark eyes and red mouth

standing out vividly against the pale fury of his face. Elijah

waited for the next attack, but by then Rebekah had arrived

as well. Her slim white hand rested on Sol's sleeve, her grip

deadly. Although his broad face was still hot with anger,

Elijah knew Solomon was smart enough to recalculate theodds. Together, the three Original vampires were no one'sidea of easy prey.

"That's enough now," Rebekah warned, her voice low

with her implied threat.

Louis struggled to his feet, brushing off his wrinkled suit and looking absolutely murderous. But obedience won over

fury and he looked to his father for his cue.

"We're here to celebrate Armand and his fiancé," Sol

agreed after a long moment. "This is not the night to address

the city's vermin problem." The werewolves around thembegan to slink sullenly back into the crowd, Louis leaving

last of all. When only the three vampires remained, Solstraightened his tie. "Think hard about how you threefit in here," he advised coldly. "Thanks to this alliance,

both we and the witches can now devote more attention

to cleaning up this city. You might find that you're more

. . . comfortable . . . elsewhere." Solomon turned on his

heel, and was gone.Elijah drew closer to his siblings. Rebekah still glancedwarily around the room, but Klaus only had eyes for Sol's

back. "So," Klaus began lightly. "I think I heard something

about an 'alliance'?"

"Don't start," Rebekah snapped. Even as she spoke to

Klaus, her brown eyes scanned Elijah up and down, probing

for any sign of serious injury. "You understand perfectly

well why we didn't tell you about the marriage pact." Elijah

knew that Klaus understood, but that was the problem."And

you

," she raged, pushing Elijah hard in the chest.

"What were you thinking, starting a fight tonight, of all

nights? Isn't one Niklaus enough?"

"We might have been better off staying home," Elijah

admitted, rubbing at his chest ruefully, "but I could have sed a few more Niklauses once they started in on me." He

turned to smile appreciatively at his brother, but to his alarmhe realized that Klaus was now covertly watching Vivianne.

Rebekah must have seen it too, because she moved

between them, cutting off their brother's line of sight to

the half-witch. "This is serious," she argued urgently. "Our

place here was precarious already, but the werewolves will

have more influence now. With Sol in their ears, the witches

might decide to stop ignoring us."

"You know what

I'll

suggest." Klaus leaned back a little,

trying to catch another glimpse of the bride-to-be. "Army,

slaughter, safety."

"No army," Elijah disagreed vehemently. "We can't

break the deal first. Just one new vampire will be all the

excuse they need. They won't just drive us out; they'll band

together to destroy us."

Rebekah looked from Klaus to Vivianne and back again,

her brown eyes thoughtful. "But there's already an army

here," she mused. "The French have a permanent camp just

a few miles away. They're human, obviously, but turning

them can't be the only way to get them on our side. We

have other methods of persuasion. Isn't that right, Niklaus?"

Klaus frowned in surprise and Elijah realized what

Rebekah was getting at. "People

 _will_

do foolish things forlove," Elijah agreed thoughtfully, "and a little compulsionwouldn't hurt our cause, either."Elijah could tell that, at least for the moment, Klaus was back in the fold. "My sister the general," Klaus teased,

almost warmly. "Seducing the entire French army should

be an interesting new challenge for you."

Rebekah laughed, and for a moment Elijah rememberedthem all as children—as humans—again. "I think seducing just the captain will suffice," she said primly. "

Soldiers

obey

orders."

"How dull," Klaus responded with an exaggerated smile,

hooking Rebekah's arm in his. "Speaking of which, this

party has gone terribly stale. Let's go find something to eat."

"Leave it breathing," Elijah warned under his breath, but

he couldn't keep a grin entirely off his lips.

Chapter 3

They never saw her coming.The cart-horse cried out as Rebekah launched herself atthe humans, who had mistakenly believed the twilit forestnorth of the city a perfectly safe place to be. But the sound

came too late for the couple, who didn't even manage to

look up before Rebekah was upon them. Climbing up onto

the wagon, she snapped the woman's neck with her left

hand, and with her right she pulled the man's head back

to expose his weathered throat. His life ended in a burst ofthick, hot blood before he could even wonder why.Rebekah normally would have preferred to take a little

more time with her meals, but she had too much to do. The

army patrol passed by these woods every hour, and she had

no intention of greeting them as a murderess.She ripped the straps of the harness that yoked the horse

to the wagon. She raised a hand to shoo it away, and the

beast bolted as soon as it was free. The broken harness

dangled uselessly in the dirt, and Rebekah kicked one of

the wheels for added effect. Spokes shattered and the hoop

cracked, emphasizing how helpless and stranded she was

supposed to be.

The woman, of course, must not be found. Rebekah

dragged her from her seat, carrying her into the trees until she could no longer see the broken wagon. Roots and thick

undergrowth made digging even a shallow grave a riskywaste of time, so she shoved the body under the densest

bush she could see, and then looked critically at her work.

It had been wise not to drain the woman, even though

she wouldn't have minded a second meal. The ground was

barely disturbed, and there would be no telltale trail of blood

to lead anyone to the corpse.

Rebekah ran lightly back to the clearing, turning her full

attention to the dead man. The bite marks were small, buta more obvious cause of death would be an improvement.

Eyeing his neck critically, she slashed a knife across his

throat, severing an artery and hiding the marks from her

teeth. It wasn't perfect—and he didn't have nearly enough

blood left to make it as dramatic as she would have liked—

so she added a few extra cuts to his hands and arms to tella more detailed story.

Finally she lifted him from the cart, propping him againstan oak tree in what she cheerfully imagined was a valiant—

if hopeless—last stand. Her rescuers might notice how

quickly she healed if she injured herself, but she carefully

ripped at her own clothing, creating a few artistic tears in

the powder-blue fabric. She rubbed her hands in the dirt.

Wrinkling her nose a little, she smeared some on her high

cheekbones, streaking her delicate collarbone and where

her torn dress revealed a creamy slice of abdomen. She

could hear hoofbeats now, so she tousled her hair roughly while glancing around one final time at the scene she had

set. Then she collapsed against the oak tree next to the

dead body.

From the sound of the horses, she guessed there were six

men. They stopped and she heard startled murmuring. It

was all she could do to keep her eyes closed and her body

still while they took in the disaster. They approached slowly,

carefully, and she could picture them examining each of

her clues. Even though the sun had already slid below thetrees and the light was poor, she was glad she had been sothorough."She breathes," one of the soldiers announced suddenly,

and Rebekah let her long eyelashes flutter open. She stared

around in apparent confusion, pressing one hand to her head

as if it ached. Six soldiers, just as she had thought, in long

blue coats that cut away to show flashes of red. The French

army had arrived to save the day.

Rebekah's head rolled to the side so that she could see the

dead man propped against the tree trunk. "My husband!"she shrieked, clutching her hands to her chest. One of the

rips in her dress gaped strategically, and out of the corner of

her eye she noticed several of the men watching it keenly.

"Those horrible men killed my husband." She threw herself

melodramatically across the wagoner's lifeless chest, hiding

her smirk against his shirt.

"There have been reports of bandits on this road, butnothing like this," one of the soldiers told the others quietly. "Do you think it's the villains that the Captain has

mentioned?"

"It must be." She heard some of them shift uncomfortably,

and wished she could stop playing her role long enough

to look up and read their expressions. The soldier's voice

dropped so low that a human wouldn't have been able to

hear it, although of course a vampire could. "She called

them men, but we can't be sure that it's not one of those

. . . other crimes." His volume returned to normal. "Thebandits must be getting more bold. The new captain will

surely want to increase patrols."

"You won't be able to spend so much time in the citybrothels anymore," another one chuckled, and Rebekah

heard sounds of scuffling.

Really?

A murdered man and a damsel in obvious distress

and they still acted like children? Humans could be so

unpredictable; so undisciplined. She could barely remember

how it felt to be their kind of alive—the kind that was

temporary. She cleared her throat a little and straightened upagain, tossing her loose blond hair as if it were the accidental

result of her movement. Once again, she had the patrol's

undivided attention.

"Madame," the nearest soldier began, diplomatically

placing a hand on her shoulder, after introducing himself

as Felix, "I am terribly sorry this has happened. We will

escort you to back the city." He was reasonably attractive,

Rebekah decided, with thick black stubble and a hooked Gallic nose. His uniform showed a rank far too low for

him to be a useful target, but he could be enjoyable enough

company while he got her there.

"I can't go back," she disagreed vehemently, taking hold

of his embroidered sleeve. "My husband had debts; the

Navarros were looking for us. My husband hoped to join

his cousin in Shreveport, but he hadn't answered our letters

yet when we were forced to leave. I don't even know if the

cousin is still there." She softened her grip on Felix's arm,

and made her eyes wide, brown pools of shock and sorrow.

"I warned him his gambling would ruin us."

"We can't send her back," a short blond soldier said

worriedly. "The Navarros are criminals; she won't be safeif she can't pay them."

"We can't escort her all the way up to Shreveport,"

another countered. "And who even knows if she has people

there?"Felix nodded his head decisively, as if agreeing with hisown thoughts. "We will bring her back to camp for now,"

he ordered. "She will have military protection until the

captain can determine a safe place for her to go."

"Thank you," Rebekah whispered. "Thank you all so

much." Fainting seemed like overkill, so instead she let the

man help her onto his waiting horse.

"Bring the husband. The Captain will want to inspect

him," the soldier called over his shoulder as he mounted

his horse and situated himself behind her. Rebekah shifted forward in the saddle as much as she could.

 _Oh, dear._

The

patrol arranged her late "husband" on a roll of canvas

secured with rope.

Even with the extra burden of the dead man, the

encampment was only about a half-hour's ride. Rebekah

was relieved, as it quickly became apparent that she had

drastically overestimated her soldier's charms. No matter

how many hints she dropped about her arranged, troubled,

and practically dead marriage, he had little to say asidefrom clumsy attempts to console the "grieving widow."She hoped that the captain would demonstrate a littlemore imagination; she preferred to save compulsion for

emergencies rather than relying on it for every little thing.

There was no doubt which tent was his: it stood proudly

in the center of the camp and fleur-de-lis decorated every

available surface. Rebekah had to remind herself not todismount too fluidly, instead falling into her gallant

soldier's waiting arms with deliberate clumsiness. The horse

helped by shifting and shying away as she moved; it was

better trained than the cart-horse had been, but it was nomore fond of her. "Please be brave, Madame," her soldierwhispered as he released her hand, and Rebekah stifled a

laugh.

The short man had gone on ahead to alert the captain,because as he hurried back toward their horses, Rebekah

saw that he was not alone. The new arrival crossed the

camp in long, easy strides that indicated effortless authority. Although there was no doubt in her mind that he was in

charge here, he was younger than she had expected; maybe

not even over thirty. The French had a sizable army stationed

outside of New Orleans, so either he was an unusually adept

commander, or extremely well-connected. Or, most likely,

both. His hair was thick and brown with just a hint of

gray at the temples, which Rebekah immediately decided

was attractive. His eyes were a warm hazel shade, and

surprisingly kind. When he looked up at her and smiled,she felt so safe that she briefly forgot that the danger was

all a lie to begin with.

"Madame." The single word was an entire formal

greeting. "I am terribly sorry to learn of your circumstances.

Please rest assured that you will be safe here until we can

arrange for your passage to a more comfortable home."

"Home," she repeated softly. Her brothers were the onlyhome she had. Their parents had made them immortal and

then turned on them, believing that their own children

had become monsters—that saving their lives had been a

terrible mistake. What kind of home could she build with

that shadow constantly hovering over her? In truth, she

was even more adrift than the character she was playing

for the captain.

"We will search for your family and your late husband's,"

he clarified gently. "Or we will arrange something else.

Please don't worry about all that now; you have already

been through so much this evening."

"Thank you," Rebekah said.

He smiled again, as serenely as if they were not

surrounded by weapons, dangers, and death. "My name

is Captain Moquet," he told her, his eyes flickering to her

hands as if he was looking for something—and then she

realized that she had forgotten to take that damned woman's

wedding ring, and her daylight ring sat on her right index

finger. It wouldn't be possible to take the large stone off, as

it was what allowed her kind to walk in the sunlight, but

she chided herself for not being more careful. "But call meEric. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about yourattackers? I see that they have stolen your ring?"

"

Yes

," Rebekah replied with deliberate eagerness. "I feel

so strange to suddenly be without it."

"I understand, Madame," Eric assured her with suchconviction that she wondered if she had inadvertently

compelled him without realizing it. Then his hazel eyes

turned to the dead wagoner, and every trace of softness— everything human—disappeared from his face.

He approached the corpse, and the soldiers stepped

back. He leaned down, his long fingers tracing the wounds

Rebekah had inflicted without quite touching them.

"Bandits, you said?" he queried, pointing toward the short

blond soldier without looking away from the dead body.

A few of the men glanced nervously at Rebekah and thenaway again. Some shifted uncomfortably. She had heard one

of the men refer to him as "the new captain." How well

did he know his new post? She decided it was best for herto say nothing, and wait."No," Eric said at last, bringing one fingertip down on

the edge of the long slash across the dead man's throat. "The

marks are almost hidden, but they are here. This is not thework of any man." He looked up finally, his eyes burning

into Rebekah's so deeply that she couldn't possibly lookaway. When he spoke again, it was as if the words were

meant only for her. "This place is full of the unnatural andcursed. You must be careful."


End file.
